


Like Magic

by f-ing-ruthless-baz (f_ing_ruthless_baz)



Series: Better Than Fighting [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Simon Snow, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Simon Snow's Wings and Tail, Smut, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 14:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ing_ruthless_baz/pseuds/f-ing-ruthless-baz
Summary: He reaches up with his hand, now, to cradle the back of my neck, and draws me closer so he can whisper in my ear. “I want to touch your wings, Simon,” he says, and it sends a shiver through me. My wings—which are spelled compact at the moment—twitch at the thought.I’m not entirely sure what the deal is with my wings. I’ve tried researching dragon wings, and there’s nothing about this. Then again, they aren’t actual dragon wings. I just imagined them onto me. So I don’t know what they are.And I don’t know why it feelsso goodwhen he touches me there. (Except it feels good when he touches me anywhere. Maybe that’s it.)Baz wants to make Simon feel good. This time Simon is going to let him.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Better Than Fighting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540993
Comments: 9
Kudos: 355





	Like Magic

**Author's Note:**

> At first it was an accident. I wrote the first fic in this series, and somehow Simon's wings became a bigger deal than I ever expected them to, and then there was this line of Baz's internal monologue, _I briefly wonder if he could come from wing stimulation alone, but today’s not the day to figure that out._ And while today is not that day, either, it's certainly a step in that direction of exploration. This is in the same canon-divergent 'verse, though, where Simon has _some_ magic still, but not like he did before he gave most of it away to the Humdrum. Not enough to change back his wings and tail.
> 
> Also, I clearly don't know anything about how fictional, magically-formed human-dragon wings work--and you'll have to suspend your disbelief about his wingspan, because I have no idea how far they supposedly spread. Please don't take any of this too seriously. I'm begging you.
> 
> Special thanks to my betas, [The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff) and [soultoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soultoast), who assured me I could get away with this. So blame them.

This feels like a wasted opportunity.

Penny’s out for the whole evening, but Baz and I are just watching telly on the couch, like an old married couple. Which is fine, of course. It’s nice. I look forward to many nights like this when we _are_ an old married couple.

But we’re young, right now. We’re supposed to be _living life_. Yet he’s absently brushing his thumb over the top of my thigh, where his hand is resting, like he has no idea what it’s doing to me. Like he really just wants to watch fucking _Dinner Date_, tonight.

My head is resting on his shoulder, so I angle it towards him to nuzzle into his neck. He hums distractedly.

“Baz,” I say as I reach up to kiss his jaw.

“Hm?” he replies, his eyes still glued to the TV and his thumb still tracing circles on my leg.

I kiss him lower on his neck to get his attention, but he just hums again. Though he’s leaning into me a bit more now. I turn my whole body to face him, now, as I reach over to unbutton his shirt. (He’s already got the first two open, but that’s not enough for what I’ve got in mind.)

He exhales something like a soft laugh when I draw his collar wide open and press my lips against his clavicle. I guess that means he is _sort of_ paying attention.

“What are you doing, Snow?” he asks with amusement.

I grin against him and graze his skin with my teeth. “I’m trying to get you hard,” I tell him.

He breathes another laugh, and takes my hand in his, squeezing it gently before guiding it down into his lap. I lift my head to look at him, then over at the TV, then back at him.

“I didn’t realize you liked this show _that_ much—”

“It’s not from the show, you numpty,” he says, though there’s not bite to his words. (Not that I’d say no to a little bite…) “I’ve been touching you for twenty minutes.”

“Just my leg, though,” I say, as if him touching my leg for twenty minutes didn’t get me hard, too.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I was thinking about touching you other places, as well.”

“Oh,” I say with a self-satisfied smile on my face, palming him through the front of his jeans. His hand is still on mine, but he doesn’t stop me, and I lean in until our noses almost brush. “Like where?”

He reaches up with his hand, now, to cradle the back of my neck, and draws me closer so he can whisper in my ear. “I want to touch your wings, Simon,” he says, and it sends a shiver through me. My wings—which are spelled compact at the moment—twitch at the thought.

I’m not entirely sure what the deal is with my wings. I’ve tried researching dragon wings, and there’s nothing about _this_. Then again, they aren’t _actual_ dragon wings. I just imagined them onto me. So I don’t know what they are.

And I don’t know why it feels _so good_ when he touches me there. (Except it feels good when he touches me anywhere. Maybe that’s it.)

I mean, it’s not like I get a boner every time my wings accidentally brush up against something. Most of the time they’re just like any extremity. Just a couple of extra arms. (Though maybe they’re all elbow; I feel like they’re always just getting in the way.)

But when I’m with Baz—like, _with him_—they get so… well, _sensitive_, for lack of a better word. Every little touch drives me mad, in the best possible way.

I don’t always let him touch them, though. It’s just—it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? It’s _weird_.

It reminds me that I’m a freak.

But he wants to touch them. And—_Merlin_—if that’s not the most thrilling thing he’s ever said to me, I don’t know what is.

“If you want me to,” he adds gently.

I press the side of my face against his and nod. “Yeah.”

He trails his fingertips down past the base of my neck, his touch featherlight along my spine, and my wings nearly burst open from the anticipation. The concealment spell can’t really hold when they spread on their own like that. I think he’s counting on it.

I bury my face in his neck right before his hand bumps the invisible join, where my wings sprout from between my shoulder blades. I gasp against his skin when he starts stroking the top edge of one of them. I can feel the spell about to break and—

And it doesn’t.

My wings are straining against the magic keeping them down, keeping them invisible. He’s brushing over me so lightly, like he’s teasing me. I can’t take it much longer. I swing my knee up over his leg and grind my hips into him, while my tail coils itself around his ankle; I need _something_ to release the tension soon.

His hand continues down to the tip of the wing—it’s easier to reach when they’re spelled in like this—and he rubs it between his thumb and forefinger.

That’s it. I think I’m gonna—

“_Fuck_,” I cry out, against his neck, and he pulls his hand away just in time. I still my hips as my wings spread wide—I don’t want to _actually_ come yet—as a full-body shudder washes through me. I feel free in a way I haven’t in a _while_.

“_Fucking beautiful_,” Baz rasps in my ear before pulling my earlobe between his teeth.

My wings are twitching, still, and my tail is starting to thrash. “I think we should—_ah_—take this to—” I manage to say before he muffles my words with his mouth. “—_Mebdrum_.”

He kisses me for another moment and then pulls back, breathlessly. “What?”

“_Bedroom_—I need—I—”

His lips are on mine again, but his arms are also wrapped around me as he pushes forward. I almost think he’s going to push me to the floor, but when he stands I realize he’s lifting me, as well. He’s fucking _carrying_ me to the bedroom.

“Show off,” I mutter when he pulls his head back to see where he’s going. My tail wraps around his bicep and squeezes.

He smirks as he shifts to redistribute my weight, and I try to keep my wings as tucked in as possible so I don’t knock things over along the way. It’s hard to hold tension in them for very long when they’re like this, though—they just want to be _out_. I can’t help it.

We make it through the doorway before I give in and let them spread wide again. (I do knock something off the dresser, but it can’t be that important right now.)

Baz doesn’t let go until we reach the bed, where he just drops me on my arse—thankfully my tail is still around his arm so I don’t crush it beneath me. (I mean, it’s pretty resilient, but it still hurts.)

I pull my t-shirt off over my head—it’s got a slit in the back for my wings, since I only wear this one around the flat—before I grab onto the hem of his shirt to keep him from going anywhere. “C’mere,” I say, practically slurring from the saliva pooling in my mouth as I try to decide what I might want to do to him.

I finish opening the rest of his buttons before leaning forward to press my lips to his stomach, placing open-mouth kisses over it. He runs one hand back and forth through my hair while the other massages my bare shoulder.

“Can I touch you?” he says softly, almost reverently. He is touching me, technically—but I know he means my wings. (They twitch again.)

“You fucking better,” I growl, and give him a playful nip with my teeth.

He sucks in a breath and squeezes my shoulder. “Manners, Snow,” he says, but I’m already pointedly ignoring him by unfastening his jeans.

He tugs my hair back so I look up at him, and then smirks at me. I feel his hand leave my shoulder, but when I try to turn my head to see what he’s about to do with it, he tugs again to make me face him.

“But—” I start to protest, before his fingers brush over my wing, faintly, sending a violent shiver through me.

And suddenly his hand’s gone.

“_Baaaz_—” I whine, but then he strokes along the top edge again, a bit firmer this time, all the way to the highest point. I close my eyes as my mouth drops open. I’m trying to concentrate on not letting my wings flap, but it’s hard, because it feels _so good_—and if I flap them then he’ll have to stop.

“You’re absolutely bloody gorgeous, Snow,” he says, holding up my chin with the hand that was in my hair, before letting go to sweep it over the other wing.

“_Oh god_—_Fuck_—Baz, I—_Nnnngh!_” I drop my head forward and lean into his stomach, panting heavily against him as I try to muster the presence of mind to finish opening his flies.

“I’m guessing that’s a positive reaction,” he says, sounding rather smug as he gently kneads his hands into me. So I yank his jeans down past his hips in retaliation.

“_Fuck you_,” I reply, but it comes out as a breathy laugh.

But that’s not exactly what I have in mind.

“Actually,”—I kiss him right where the trail of hair peeks out, below his navel—“I want you,”—I snap his elastic waistband with my teeth before mouthing at him over the front of his pants—“to fuck me.”

He exhales a shaky breath as I free him from the confines of his briefs and take him in my mouth. He massages me harder, right in the crook of each wing, and I let out an appreciative moan, though it’s muffled around his cock.

“_Simon_—” he grunts as he runs his hands up to the highest points of my wings again—right up next to the spikes—and rubs his thumbs over them in circles.

My wings jerk a little, rising higher and higher, and I’m shaking as I try not to let them flap about too much. He’s relentless, though, and I know I won’t be able to hold it off for very long.

I have to pull back when a guttural cry rips from my throat. “_Baz, wait_—”

He lets go of me immediately, like he’s afraid of hurting me, and I finally let my wings flap and stretch after holding so much tension in them.

“Sorry, I was—” I begin, but he lifts my chin again and bends down to kiss me before I can finish.

I wrap my arms around his neck and he scoops me up by the hips again to move me towards the middle of the bed, so he can join me. He doesn’t generally use his vampire strength on me—I think he’s worried it will spook me—but I sort of wish he’d manhandle me like this more often.

He sets me down on my knees and holds me flush to his chest, digging his fingers into my back just below the joins of my wings. I whimper into his mouth as I roll my shoulders back, to try and get a little more attention where I desperately need it—he knows I want his hands higher but he’s holding out on me.

He trails his lips down the side of my neck—to one of my moles—and then up to my ear. “Turn around,” he says gruffly.

I can’t disguise my eagerness as I pull back, scrambling to take off the rest of my clothes—he’s much less frantic as he finishes undressing himself, though—and present myself to him on all fours.

He laughs lightly and gives my tail a quick, gentle tug. “Come here, you impatient git,” he says.

I sit up on my knees, frowning over my shoulder at him, but then he closes his arms around my middle and pulls me into his chest. Not hard enough to crush my wings, though they brush against him with each involuntary movement, giving me a quick thrill every time. (I consider doing it on purpose, but I restrain myself.)

Baz’s hands glide over my chest and stomach as he kisses the back of my neck, and my tail snakes around his thigh of its own accord. He rarely embraces me from behind, because the wings make it more than a little awkward, but when they’re relaxed and spread wide like this, he fits pretty well between them. I give them an intentional flap to show my appreciation, and he hums against my skin.

He kisses the top of my spine and then leans us both forward, just a little, so he can continue down my back, holding me tight to keep me from toppling. His face is between my wings, which are practically shaking, as he smooths his hands over the front of me. He places a kiss just next to the spot where my right wing sprouts from my back, and the wing twitches with anticipation.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his breath ghosting over the back of it.

I grip my hands over his and nod. “_Yes_,” I say, though it comes out as a shaky sigh.

I don’t often do this. Let Baz use his mouth on me… there. On my wings.

_‘He shouldn’t have to do this,’_ I usually tell myself. It’s not like he signed up for it. It isn’t something anyone ever expects they’ll have to do for their partner. (It’s sort of like how I didn’t expect I would ever suck cock—though I do it gladly, now—but at least that’s still something that humans actually do. It’s not _freakish_, like this.)

Even though I don’t think he actually minds it. It was his idea to try, in the first place, and he’s the only one who ever suggests it. (He claims my wings taste like magic, too—not my current magic, but the sort of magic I had before I gave most of it away. That it means I still have some of that magic in me.) (I cried when he told me that, actually.)

And he knows it feels good for me. But I don’t want him to think that means he _has_ to.

His hands clutch my chest tighter as he kisses the base of my wing, his open mouth slightly cool against me. It’s not unpleasant—not in the slightest—but I nearly jerk away from him, reflexively.

It’s too much—I want too much from him. _I’m too much,_ I think.

“Simon…” he says, coaxing me to relax.

It works. By the time he’s flattened his tongue over me, I’ve let go of the tension in my shoulders, just giving in to the sensation of him tasting me. Tasting my magic. The magic I can no longer give him.

He’s giving me everything, right now, and I let myself take it all.

“_Oh!—Yes!—Fuck—_” I cry out when he reaches a spot that feels particularly good, and he starts torturing it with his mouth. My wings are trembling and spreading wide, as I try to keep from knocking him right off me.

I’m whimpering by the time I notice that one of his hands has slipped all the way down my front, and he takes hold of my throbbing cock. I push my hips back as he delivers long, deliberate strokes, and he grunts every time my arse presses against him.

I can’t keep this going much longer, though.

“_Baz_—” I say, holding his wrist to stop him before it’s all over too soon. I still want him to fuck me.

He places a final kiss on my shoulder blade and backs off a moment, letting me drop forward to my elbows as he leans over to dig through the bedside drawer. (I know he hates how I keep it such a mess, but he’s never offered to tidy it for me, so what does he expect?)

I hang my head forward and try to rein in my excitement with slow, even breaths—otherwise I’ll come as soon as he’s inside me. I’m so focused on myself, I don’t even realize he’s behind me again until I feel his palm press gently into the small of my back.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks, and I can feel him leaning over me to try and look at my face while he lines up a slick finger to me.

I exhale a desperate laugh. I know he’s worried about hurting me, but he doesn’t need to be. “Just get the fuck on with it.”

He snorts. (It’s very unsexy, and I love it.) “Bossy today.”

I try to push back, but he presses down harder on my back to keep me still. My tail thrashes a little and hits his arm before coiling around it again.

“Come _on_, Baz, just—” I start to whine, but he pushes into me—slowly—and I choke on the words.

“Better?” he says smugly, setting me on fire from the inside as his fingers take me apart.

I drop my head to the mattress and desperately try to rock my hips at the pace my body’s aching for. “_Nnf—More!_”

He draws his fingers out and I nearly sob, but hear him shuffling behind me as he gets himself ready. I want to look over my shoulder at him and say something sexy or taunting—or _anything_, really—but I’m a trembling wreck, my wings spasming uncontrollably, and I just need to _get fucked_.

His hand is on my back again as he positions himself, and it’s the only thing keeping me from driving my hips back until he fills me up.

But soon he’s easing in, letting us both adjust to the sensation for a moment. I can hear his shaky breath behind me—it comes out in a huff when I clench around him.

“Prat,” he mutters as he pulls out part way, and then slams back into me. Repeatedly.

I’m sputtering incoherent nonsense—random sounds, more so than words—but I think it gets the point across that I’m enjoying this. (_Merlin, am I ever enjoying this_.) (It’s like every little thing he does is magic—and I realize now those are basically song lyrics, but I’m _delirious_, okay?)

Baz is sort of babbling, too, though his nonsense definitely sounds more like words—words like _fuck_ and _so good_ and _that’s it, love_—which spur me on. I wrap my tail around his waist for leverage so I can match his thrusts with my hips, with what little of my strength remains.

It wouldn’t take much for me to come like this—he could reach around and finish me with a couple good strokes—but there’s something else I want. And it’s going to sound weird.

“Baz, I—_ah_—I want you—_ngk_—just—just—_nngh_—touch me!”

He does start to reach forward, but I grab his wrist to stop him, weakly supporting myself with one arm.

“_Nnn_—Not there,” I say as I draw my wings in close.

He breaks his rhythm for half a second when it registers what I’m asking him to do. “_Simon_—” he moans, like the idea of touching my wings while he’s inside me excites him almost as much as it does me. (I can hope, right?)

He brushes his fingers over one of my wings, as light as he did before—but that’s not what I need now, so I pull them in tighter to give him better access where I need him.

“The ends, the ends—!” I pant. “Please, just—”

He catches the far tips of my wings in each hand and massages his thumbs over them in circles without any further instruction. I almost sob again—he knows what I want and doesn’t question me or judge me. He just gives it to me. (Some day I’ll have to figure out a way to give him everything _he_ wants. Satisfy his monster parts, too.)

It’s so good, and I tell him so—at least, I _try_ to tell him, but I’m still mostly just making sounds. My tail is still encircling his waist, keeping our hips pushed up against each other so he doesn’t need to hold onto me—though his movement is much more subtle now, just rocking back and forth, nudging me towards the brink of total destruction. Because that’s what he’s doing: destroying me. Wonderfully.

I take myself loosely in my hand because I know I’ll be done for any second now. I’m past the point of no return.

“_Baz_—” I say, trying to warn him before I lose control of my wings—he just barely manages to let go in time, and they spread wide as soon as I stroke myself. Because that’s all it takes before I’m coming on the sheets, pumping my fist furiously as the release tears through me, and riding it out until the last wave.

Baz curls over my back, pressing his forehead against my spine and babbling more encouraging nonsense, as my wings start to relax at my sides. He wraps his arms around me, panting against my skin, growing more and more vocal the closer he gets.

And then he’s coming, too—loudly—which is the hottest sound in the world, and it could probably make me hard again if I weren’t completely wiped out. But I am. Absolutely, completely wiped.

I collapse stomach first onto the bed—right into the mess I just made—and he collapses on his side next to me. He lifts my wing out of the way to nestle up against me, and lets it drape over him like a blanket.

“Was that good?” he asks quietly, placing a kiss on my shoulder.

I laugh indignantly through my nose. “You know it was, you conceited—”

“_Simon_,” he says, holding my gaze. “Thank you.”

“I—For what?”

He kisses me on the shoulder again. “For trusting me.”

“Of course I trust you,” I say, my voice practically a whisper.

He wedges himself under my arm until I turn onto my side, facing him, and wrap him in it. “You know I love all of you, right?” he says into my chest.

I squeeze him tighter. “Even the freakish bits?”

He huffs a laugh. “Even the freakish bits,” he says, and then draws his head back to look at me. “Your eyes, for instance, are a freakishly boring colour. But I love them anyway.”

“Yes, good, that’s what I was talking about.” I lean in to kiss him, because it feels like it’s been years since the last time. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know about my WIPs and other random, vaguely Carry On or fanfic-related things I like to talk about, you can find me on tumblr as [@f-ing-ruthless-baz](https://f-ing-ruthless-baz.tumblr.com)!


End file.
